


On Your Knees

by Evax3



Series: The King's Desire [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Praise Kink, Spanking, Subspace, dom!robb, sensual domination, sub!theon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evax3/pseuds/Evax3
Summary: With Robb now as king, Theon has a hard time thinking straight ...
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Series: The King's Desire [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912576
Comments: 16
Kudos: 110





	On Your Knees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lydia_Martin_trash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_Martin_trash/gifts), [Mis_Shapes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mis_Shapes/gifts).



> This is the result of us going through my last thirsty thursday throbb emergency together, where we realized that I write way too much fluff and that Robb Stark's king mode is hard to resist!  
> Thank you guys, I really adore our educational talks :)

**On Your Knees**

_These are my terms. If the Queen regent and her son will meet them, I'll give them peace. If not … I will litter the south with Lannister dead._

The words still ring out as the rest of the war council leaves the tent. It was not only their meaning but also the way Robb spoke them, which had sent a shiver down Theon's spine. A pleasant shiver. One that makes his breath flutter, that evokes a sensation low in his stomach.

Robb is no longer a boy, no longer green like when he'd called the banners. Now he's a king. Acting like one in everything he does.

Definitely a man grown by now. The way he holds himself up, with his broad shoulders and striking chin, these days covered by a thick red beard. When Robb talks everyone around him listens, and not only because he's their king, but because he exudes a power for all of them to recognize. Blue eyes sharp as steel and inscrutable. His gaze leaves no room for contradiction.

All this had led to Theon not being able to say one single word during the whole meeting. Instead he'd only sat there and watched him. No, _started_ at him. Because he just couldn't help himself. And the sheer thought of it makes his cock twitch again with interest.

He takes another sip of his wine to calm his nerves, watches Robb exchanging a few last words with his bannermen as they leave one by one. As the last has finally disappeared into the night, Theon stands up and joins him near the entrance.

“A word Your Grace?” he asks, trying his best to make his voice sound somewhat mellow. Because they got something important to discuss. Something that leaves no room for his lecherous fantasies. Not yet at least.

“You don't have to call me _Your Grace_ when no one's around,” Robb replies. He literally spits out the words. Showing how much contempt he feels for the title.

Some nights ago, with everyone around them already asleep, after they'd fucked so hard for their legs could no longer carry them if they'd tried, Robb had opened up to him, revealed something Theon had already suspected for a while. _Gods be good, why would any man ever want to be king?_

And yet Theon loves to tease him about it. Probably just loves only a few things more than teasing Robb with _all_ kinds of things.

“It's not so bad, once you get used to it,” he smirks and receives a little smile in return.

“I'm glad someone's gotten used to it.”

He watches him as he stands there in all his male glory, his jaw clenched, muscles tense. Theon could well imagine how hard they'd feel beneath his fingers. And like that all the words about the Lannisters, his father and his ships are blown away, fading into the wind. Only one thought remains with him, almost a gasp as he opens his mouth, “ _Your Grace.”_

Robb slowly shifts his gaze, stares almost angry with his eyes narrowed. It's little helpful to lift Theon's torturous thoughts, though sure Robb must know that. But then something flits across his face, easy to overlook and yet there. Something like a wolfish grin.

“Well …” he says, “if you still _insist_ on calling me like that, then it's only appropriate if you start to act accordingly.”

He takes a sharp breath. Impossible to avoid, like the snort Theon gives afterwards. One he himself is not sure whether it is from amusement or surprise. Or excitement. Or all combined.

Yet Robb doesn't go for it. Turns his whole body instead. Straightened up, Theon almost shrinks under his gaze, even if he got some height on him. It is that look which makes his heart flutter, which makes it difficult for him to breathe. Still he won't avert his eyes.

“And how am I going to do that … _Your Grace_?” he tries to joke, remains his stand, waiting for Robb to answer.

Which he doesn't give him right away. Instead he takes his time, lets the tension increase. For it feels like hours, before he finally opens his mouth.

“Get on your knees.”

—

His mouth drops open as Theon moves down in earnest, albeit hesitantly for a second. But then _actually_ , kneels before him. Looks up to him through these thick black lashes. His head exactly at the perfect height to …

Robb was just teasing him, trying to pay him back in his own coin, but this is not what he expected.

It gives him the same feeling as that night when Theon has sworn loyalty to him in front of all the others. _Now and always_ , he remembers. It unleashed such an overwhelming feeling inside him to see Theon submit so willingly to him like that. The same feeling that is now flaring up again in his chest.

Because he always admired Theon right for the contrary.

For being his own master through and through and living up to that more than anyone else Robb knows. That he does what he wants and gives no damn about what anyone else might think. The ease with which Theon carries himself through life is something Robb would never achieve, even if he wants to. Too much duty and honor has been placed on his shoulders.

Responsibility for his house and his family. For his bannermen and now, as their King, for all the North. Sometimes he feels like this burden is crushing him, that it's too much trust being put upon him. Something that sooner or later he'd no longer be able to do justice to.

Though trust it is now as well with which Theon meets him. But right here, it stirs another yet so different feeling within him. Desired and powerful. Something so great, that the longer they keep staring at each other, the harder it becomes for Robb to breathe.

With a light smile on his lips he stretches out his gloved hand and strokes across Theon's long black hair.

The gesture comes so naturally but is still so unfamiliar with regard to the nature of their previous relationship, that Robb is not prepared for the low moan which leaves Theon's lips.

Only then does he realize where they are, what still surrounds them. Still standing in the entrance of the tent, with all these high lords way too close, who could pass by within any second.

“Get up,” he says, his voice a little husky, throat dry and hands sweating.

Nothing else to expect, Theon grins at him when he's back on his feet. After he wiped away the dirt on his knees, “is that your _appropriate_ behavior? Just getting my breeches stained now and then?”

Robb's sure they could easily go back to what they had before, pretending that this whole conversation never happened. With days full of debates on war strategies, where Theon pretends it's all just a game and Robb tries hard to make the right decisions. Where they meet at night to relieve some tension but never enough, and the next morning everything starts all over again.

Somehow, he doesn't want to let it slip.

So, with anticipation thrumming through him, Robb says his next words, “go to your tent, get that oil of yours, and then come back to mine.”

He waits to see what reaction this provokes on Theon's face, of course he is still grinning, knowing the deeper meaning of this invitation. But that's not the way it's supposed to go, not today.

“And don't make me wait,” he adds with a slight twitch of his brow. The sound like a command does not remain beyond Theon's recognition. Causes a gleam to flash in his dark eyes. A gleam that demands all restraint from Robb not to clash their mouths together right here and now.

He watches as Theon licks his lips, leaving them glistening and wet, as he takes a step back and bows slightly. “As Your Grace demands,” he smirks.

And leaves him alone.

—

He takes the way to his tent faster than ever before, even catches himself on the verge of running a few times, but then forces himself to slow down his steps. That would be too conspicuous. But the anticipation almost makes him lose his mind, makes it so _hard_ to hold back.

Because that look, those words, _that voice_. His brain already creating images of Robb using it to tell him all the filthy things he wants him to do.

_Get on your knees._

Drowned God, it makes his blood whirl and turns his thoughts into a dazzled mess.

So, he curses under his breath when he doesn't find what he is looking for at first go. This constant roaming from one camp to another has send things flying around in his trunk. The main reason why Theon desperately needs a squire himself, someone other than him to clean up this chaos.

_Don't make me wait._

Whenever else he would probably have done nothing but that. Would have dawdled around with pure intention to find Robb then annoyed and frustrated in his tent. Leading to him taking it out directly on Theon, something he's never regretted before. Even when a few moons ago this had caused such a stinging, that he was not able to sit properly for two whole days.

Not tonight, though.

When he finally finds the small vial he'd been looking for, Theon realizes that it took him far too long. Made even worse when on his way back to Robb, he runs into none other than Blackwood and Mallister, asking him to ride with them to the inn a little way up the Red Fork. 

“We had too many battles yet far too little good fucks, don't you think?” Patrek laughs as he stops him.

 _Just speak for yourself_ , Theon wants to reply, but bites his tongue in time. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I made other plans for the night.”

They both eye him with suspicion. “Really?” Lukas asks, raising a brow, “what are those?”

He should have expected this, his mind feverishly searching for an excuse. But no easy task, with the small vial in his hand, holding a promise that makes him forget almost every clear thought.

“Might try to find a suitable fold right here in the camp,” he replies then with a smug grin, “makes it easier in the future and saves me the coins.”

They both stare at him but then burst out laughing. Still chuckling as Theon joins in, albeit somewhat more reserved.

“Well, good luck with that,” Patrek says, squeezing his shoulder, “though Dacey Mormont's rest is right up that way.” He nods in the direction, encouraging Theon on finding his luck there.

“Then I'll try there first,” Theon winks at them, receiving an amused head shake in response.

Though the gods have mercy and keep it that way as these two finally continue their journey, disappear in the sea of tents and leave him behind, relieved.

When he reaches Robb, beyond question that too much time has passed, Grey Wind is already standing guard at the entrance.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and tries to relax the muscles in his shoulders. If he's already this stirred up, although hardly anything real has happened yet, the whole thing might become a rather short pleasure. And that's the last thing he wants.

With a sharp exhale he enters.

Robb has his back to him. He has taken off his thick fur coat, now only wears his leather tunic. Unlaced, Theon realizes when he turns around. Showing a glimpse of the thick red hair covering his chest and with this look in his blue eyes, that causes the sweat on his palm to pour out again.

“Took you a while,” Robb says, vision gloomed with the little lights of the candles around them.

Whether he is angry or just as impatient as Theon himself he couldn't tell. Still, it is as if he's being held by Robb's gaze, unable to move. The smile he forces on his face is shaky and completely lacking his typical smugness.

“Well, I'm here now,” he responds, but dares not take just one step further, “so, now what?”

He watches as Robb slowly pours himself a glass of wine, taking his time as if he has nothing else to do than that. When he takes the first sip, Theon catches a small smile around the rim of his cup.

“Did you bring what I asked you for?” His eyes stern and voice steady.

For Theon's throat to go dry. Unable to answer, he does nothing but nod.

“Good,” Robb approves, as he puts his cup aside again, muscular arms outstretched, resting on the edge of the table on which he's leaning. “Drop it by the bed and undress.”

Theon's stomach flips and his cock twitches for attention when he does as he's told. Feels Robb's eyes devour him, almost burn him, with every inch of naked skin that is revealed. He's already half hard as he reaches behind him, pulls his thin blouse over his head, black curls tousled, and lets it drop to the ground beside him.

Only the gods knew how often they'd seen each other like this. Swimming as children in the hot springs of Winterfell, when none of this had any meaning.

But right now, though the meaning is unmistakable.

A slight flush creeps up Theon's neck as Robb's eyes sweep over his body. From the muscles in his chest down to the path of hair that leads from his navel to his cock, and back up again until their eyes meet.

“Like what you see?” He's too nervous to come up with anything better.

“I do,” Robb says, looking rather pleased as he pushes himself off the table to come closer. “So, where did we stop?” He tilts his head, watches Theon with his eyes narrowed, like he really has a hard time thinking.

Whereas Theon knows exactly where they'd left off. But he wants to hear it again, _has_ to hear it again.

“Oh, right,” Robb grins, heat and desire blazing in his eyes, “on your knees.”

—

Theon gets to the ground without breaking eye contact for even a second. His looks almost starving, that Robb needs to take a few slow breaths to calm his nerves. If he gets too excited this whole thing would be over far to quickly, and he doesn't want that to happen. He'd rather drag it out as far as possible.

But that's easier said than done. Especially with _him_ , right there … like _this_.

All black hair and flawless dark skin, Theon looks incredibly suggestive the way he kneels there at his feet. Flushed and greedy. It takes all of Robb's willpower not to pounce on him, spin him around and just take him. But he must control himself because he wants to make it good. Wants to make it good for Theon.

He steps even closer so he could pet his hand over his scalp, then strokes a strand almost tenderly behind his ear.

“Do as I tell and I'II reward you for that,” he says, tries to use the same voice he'd use to delegate his duties. Then swallows hard at the way Theon agrees immediately.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he chokes, a sound so _so_ loud in Robb's ears.

But he's got to keep going. “Put your hands on your knees. Don't move them.”

His thoughts are swimming, heart racing as he pulls his own breeches down, the desperate expression in Theon's eyes hard to overlook. But he does not give in. Not yet. Instead, he puts his own hand around his swollen cock, pulling a few hard strokes. Realizes then how he himself has craved for some friction like this.

“Open your mouth,” he gasps. Watches Theon licking his lips, head leaning forward. _So eager_ , Robb thought. But that's not what he asked for.

He reaches out his other hand, twists his fingers between some thick black strands and then pulls sharply, tilting his head back to hold him in place. Even if they like it rough, he'd never touched him like this before. It makes his vision blur, Theon's breath hot against his exposed skin, his whole body shaking with arousal.

“I said _open_ _your_ _mouth_ ,” Robb commands and Theon _moans_ softly, but then does as he's told.

Just stares back at Robb, as he places the blunt shape of his dick on his plumped lower lip. Working the tip along the inside a few times. Robb notices that Theon's hands are clenched into fists, balls pressing into his thighs, so hard it must be for him to hold back.

So finally, he shows mercy, even for himself, and pushes his cock right in, till he feels the head hitting the back of Theon's throat. Where he swallows around him at the first chance he gets. And then groans, sending another shock wave right through Robb's body. It's pure bliss he's feeling, smacking sounds filling the air as Theon sucks him eagerly. _He was fucking born to do this,_ Robb thinks.

Gazing down at him, he tightens his grip in Theon's hair, takes back the lead and finally he picks up a fast, rough pace. Watches his cock disappear between these swollen lips. Their eyes locked all the time, for Robb to see the way Theon looks up at him, almost smirks with his gaze, however he does so.

“Gods … you feel so fucking good …”

Theon's eyes flutter shut at the praise, brows knit together, he emits something like whimper in pleasure, and Robb has to bite his tongue not to do the same. He's more worked up than he wants to admit, already so close. Already so desperate.

Another lick and the thick vein at the base gives an almost painful throb, leaking precome into Theon's hot wet mouth. And with a deep growl he realizes that he won't last much longer.

Still, he clenches his fist in Theon's hair, forces him to take him even deeper, only just once. But it's enough to make him gag. As tears start swelling in his eyes and spit drips down his chin. Looking debauched and absolutely gorgeous, like this. Robb would love to just come right all over his face.

“Shit … you're so fucking hot like this.”

Yet he pulls his cock out all the way and watches as Theon sputters and gasps for breath.

With the back of his hand he wipes away the spit from his stubble, but it doesn't help him much to fix his wrecked and licentious looks. Robb watches him with his whole body on fire, boiling, on the edge to combust. Feeling such a need to touch him, all of him.

So, impatient and harsh, he drops to the ground and smashes their mouths together.

Sensation tingling through all his limbs, when Theon kisses him like they're long lost lovers at last reunited. Hungry, passionate, ruthless. Even if he's still not allowed to use his hands, he so makes up for it with the use of his tongue. Makes them both moan, sucking at Robb's bottom lip, biting hard into the flesh. It is too intense, too _raw_. As desire surges though Robb's body and spirals down to his balls, drawing them up tight.

Every noise that leaves Theon's mouth sounds so filthy and desperate, lust-drenched, as Robb's holds his hair tight, pulling him closer.

But the second their cocks touch, brushing against each other, it's almost enough stimulation to push them both over the edge. Though for good luck Robb manages to react in time. Presses one hand against Theon's raising chest to slow him down.

He shifts, still short of breath, and gets back on his feet.

“Go …” he pants, “go to the bed.”

He notices how Theon first glares at him with a dirty grin, but then gets up as well and walks over to the bed on trembling legs.

—

He's hard. He's so hard it almost hurts, leaking onto the sheets as he waits for Robb to join him. To touch him. To make him come.

When he finally feels Robb's finger on his ass it is like lightning strikes him, being already this tense, so close to his climax. Hopelessly he thrusts back, when he realizes again that it's not up to him, it's not up to him to decide. Nothing is.

“Put your hands above your head,” his King commands again in _that_ _voice_ , as he starts kneading his cheeks, digging into the flesh with a strong grip. His touch is fierce and impassioned, as he pulls his ass apart and spits right onto his flushed hole. Forcing another shiver through Theon as he feels it dripping down his cleft before Robb spreads it with his thumb.

“Moan for me,” he urges him, while he increases the pressure of his touch, “you know I love the way you moan.”

He tries. But when he opens his mouth, Theon makes a sound that is more of a sob. Yet he's finally rewarded, with Robb's finger pushing past his rim. And his stomach flares up, as he takes a sharp breath, just concentrating on the slight burning and the stinging stretch. Already enough to drive him wild, to make him clench around Robb desperately.

_Do as I tell and I'II reward you for that._

_Fuck,_ he wants that, he wants it _so_ bad.

Pleasure builds in a rapid speed as Robb flexes, starts to finger him, but still way to slowly. So, Theon arches his back, urging him to push deeper, to reach that spot inside him that makes him see stars. Because he needs it, he needs it and Robb knows.

“ _Please_ …” he begs, dissolving into a long groan as Robb crooks his fingers, strokes the bundle of nerves inside him and then _finally_ starts to pump them in a steady rhythm.

“Shh,” Robb whispers, “be patient. I'll take care of you.”

Theon feels his breath against his ear, the sweat on his chest mixing with the sweat on his back as Robb presses himself against him, their bodies so close together. And then it's too much, it's all too much.

“Gods … you … _ah._ ”

His feet are tingling, his thighs quivering as he pushes back against Robb, squeezes his eyes shut. The arousal rushing though his blood is centered only on the pressure deep inside him. On Robb's fingers. On the way he _takes care_ of him. He needs it. He craves it. _Drowned fuck_ , he never felt this good in his live.

And these commands, the way Robb handles him, it makes it so much more intense. Almost impossible to bear as the knot of pleasure coils tighter and tighter, as he's getting closer. About to come. Muscles contract, his body squirms uncontrollably – so close. His brain is no longer able to think, only to react instinctually when he moves one hand down, reaches for his dripping cock and – _smack_.

“ _Aaah ... fuck_.”

Pain and lust shoot through his body and Theon cries out, no chance of holding it back. Rather sure for everyone around them to hear. As another sharp slap hits his left cheek, and then another, he's sobbing out a moan, “gods ... oh … _yes_.”

It's too much already but there is still more, as Robb pulls his fingers back, leaving him lying there wrecked and open, only to come back shortly after, pressing his thick cock right against his puckered hole. He's slick with oil, whenever he did this, Theon was too far gone to notice. Still is, as he pushes inside way too slowly, grabbing and squeezing the bruised skin on his cheek.

He tries to push back, just a little, as Robb's grip hardens on his hip, “hold still.”

And he tells him again in _that_ _voice_ , which leaves Theon no choice but to obey.

He can do nothing but lie there, to moan in pleasure and surrender himself to Robb. But nothing else is expected of him. Nothing more he's got to do but that. And it feels better than Theon got words to describe. Feels like he's given over to Robb completely. Though he wants it, wants nothing more. Because he feels loved. Because Robb takes care of him.

His breath coming out in quick sharp puffs, as Robb's cook finally bottoms out, sinking up to the hilt inside him. As he pulls out but slams back, once, twice, picking up a brutal pace. Words fall from Robb's mouth, words of praise that blur Theon's world even more.

“By all gods, look at you … you're so good for me … fuck, Theon you're so tight.”

His balls are contracting, while Theon feels his whole body shuddering, throbbing. He whimpers, his eyes pressed shut as another slap hits him. Hits him _hard_. He tries to hide his cry by burying his face in the sheets of Robb's bed, but he knows he heard it. Knows he wants to hear it as he hits him again. And again.

Then there is a hand in his hair pulling him up, pressing their bodies together. Robb's mouth on his neck, kissing him way too tenderly compared to his fierce thrusts.

“You're doing so well,” Robb gasps after sucking a bruise right above his collarbone, “shit Theon, the way you make me feel. So good … you're doing so good. You want to come, don't you?”

Well … does he? Because he can't think anymore, he can't decide anything. He's completely under Robb's mercy and it never felt this pleasant. Because that's where he belongs. Where he feels safe. Where he's no ward, no hostage. No prince of the Iron Islands. Where he can simply _be_.

Robb moans loudly, still pounding into him, hard and forceful. But then the hand on his chest moves down to his prick and Robb wraps his sweaty palm around him, pulling a good stroke together with the snap of his hips. Squeezing him, twisting and jerking him. So close, he's arching for it. So bad, it almost _hurts_. Still something's holding him back. He just can't.

“Come for me, love,” Robb breaths, “let me feel it.”

And that's all it takes.

He clenches hard around Robb, as the orgasm shoots through him. Out of him. So powerful that he wants to scream out, still nothing comes out of his mouth than a choked cry, as bliss rolls through him. As his vision blurs completely. As he keeps coming. And then comes some more.

—

Robb shudders in release, but keeps thrusting forward, keeps moving his hand, while he pulls Theon through his endless orgasm. It's definitely the hottest thing he's ever seen, filthy and pure and so fucking beautiful. The way he let's go, almost helpless beneath Robb's hands. He's never seen him like this. And it's breath taking. It's everything and more.

The second he lets go of Theon, both of them completely spent, he collapses in front of him on the mattress. His whole body trembling, shaking, his breathing still erratic. Robb needs a moment himself to calm down but Theon seems to need more than that.

So, very carefully he lies down beside him, grabs the fur coat on the floor and covers them both. Even when he stretches out a hand, gently strokes a single tear from Theon's cheek, he doesn't open his eyes.

And then Robb starts to worry, mayhaps this was too much, did he go too far? What if he truly hurt him?

Gods be good, he has to make sure that wasn't the case. So, he moves closer, puts one arm around him. With the tip of his finger he strokes the wet strands off Theon's forehead, kissing his temple again and again, murmuring sweet words, until black eyes finally look back at him. Blurred, confused, like he just comes out of a dream. But there, at least.

„Are you hurt?“ Robb asks as he keeps stroking his hair, unsure which one of them he wants to comfort with this.

Watches as Theon clears his throat, swallows, and slowly starts to speak, “I … I don't think so.”

“You're sure?”

Theon nods.

“Would you come here?”

It's no command but a request as Robb offers his arms and Theon takes it. Moves closer, nuzzling his face against Robb's chest and finally letting out a soft sigh. He's still shaking somewhat but it ebbs down, as his breaths becomes more steady, his heartbeat back to normal, for Robb to feel it against his ribs.

Lying there like this, the moon wanders outside the tent for quite a while before one of them dares to speak up again.

“Robb?”

“Mhm?”

“I – I don't want to leave,” Theon says then quietly, sounding almost defeated. “I thought I wanted it, but I don't.”

“You don't have to,” Robb replies softly, kissing his knuckles to ease his mind. “Grey Wind's guarding the entrance. Nobody will find you here.”

“No, I mean, not _now_. I mean …”

Robb feels Theon hesitating, the breath of his sigh warm on his still damp skin. He lifts a hand, placing one finger beneath Theon's chin, making him look up with light pressure.

“You will never have to leave me, you hear that? Not now, not ever. This I swear by the old gods and the new.”

The way he stares at him, Robb doesn't know whether he might burst into tears or laughter. But then to his relief, sees the corner of his mouth twitching.

“You're hopeless, Stark,” Theon smirks, lying down again and getting more comfortable against Robb's chest.

And mayhaps he is, but it doesn't seem too bad considering where it's gotten him so far. With a man in his arms whom he loves, fighting a war with him that is not really his own. Because Robb knows what price Theon pays to be with him, not to go back to his family, now that his father's no longer alive, now that he's no longer a hostage. Because that's what he was and deep down they both knew that all their lives.

But it doesn't matter now, because Robb would never harm him. Would never ask anything of him that he doesn't want to give. And he'd never let him leave.

Never.

That, unless Theon asks him to.


End file.
